Something about adulthood (and perhaps just getting older) often dims the eyes. Almost overnight, the restaurant is too dark to read the menu, and the print in Script font makes it so hard to read. What ever happened to using Arial Bold? Before I could start writing this morning, I had to find my ever-evasive eye glasses, an endless source of frustration for me, as I love to read and miss the convenience of eyes that worked so well.
I took good vision for granted. I never realized how beautiful it was to open my eyes up first thing to the sunlit morning yard outside the window and be able to focus on the farthest tree. I never knew to appreciate being able to see the time on the alarm clock at night. As a child, I saw with eyes that were gifted with fullness of sight.
In the first of C.S. Lewis’s books on Narnia, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Susan witnessed the great lion, Aslan’s (Christ-like figure) death and glorious resurrection. In his last of the series, The Last Battle, Lewis states that the now grown up Susan has dismissed the whole Narnia experience as some of the fantasy she experienced as a child. She lost sight because she dismissed a reality and a gift of her childhood, and consequently, she lost the experience and the wisdom.
How many times do we forget or dismiss some great reality God lets us see? Our eyes grow dim with cynicism, with doubt, and with fear. What we knew and were gifted, we let fall to the ground and lose the treasure. The mountaintop experience quickly fades and the reality of life sets in again, in the plainness of a dull day. What may have started as an intimate morning with the Savior, can quickly fade, and the dispensation of grace for the day is lost. We go about our day just like we are anybody else. We forget who we are in Christ. Though I may have spent some time with the Lord that morning, I find some days that I fail at the first challenge set before me. I fall into the same old pattern of thinking, or I lose my temper, or worse, lose my enthusiasm for living life in the fullness of His plan for me that day.
It is no mystery to me that He says, “Come as little children.” Come as Susan, the child. Come with eyes to see Him. Let the things of the earth, grow strangely dim in the Light of His glory and grace. Oh, that we would all see dimly our circumstances, and clearly our Christ.